Page 10

Chapter Ten

Lucy

I ron Ridge Airport looks like it mated with a sports bar and gave birth to a reality show.

The entire front terminal is crammed with fans waving homemade signs, reporters with camera crews, and enough noise to make my ears ring before I even get through the sliding doors.

To the side, someone’s blasting the Icehawks victory chant from a portable speaker. There’s a food truck outside selling "Walsh Waffles," complete with powdered sugar goalie masks. Another’s slinging "Blake’s Burritos" like they’re giving away gold.

I am two seconds from turning around and crawling into the nearest luggage carousel.

“Smile,” Sophia sing-songs next to me, nudging my arm as we push through the crowd. “You’re the face of a franchise now.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Too late,” Natalie adds, adjusting her duffel bag over one shoulder. “You’re already trending on TikTok. Again.”

My stomach flips. I haven’t checked social media since yesterday, and frankly, I’d like to keep my delusions intact for a few more minutes.

After practically telling Ethan to get the hell out of my life until he sorts his shit out, I don't need attention like this right now.

But then the reporters spot us.

"Lucy! Over here! Are you and Connor officially dating?"

"How did your family react to the kiss?"

"Are you traveling as his girlfriend?"

I blink like I’ve walked into the path of an oncoming train. I'm just about to stammer something vaguely professional when an arm slides around my waist and my skin heats.

Connor stands beside me, grinning like he invented sex and decided to give it away for free.

He smiles at the press standing in our way. "Lucy Lou… yeah, she's mine. Has been for awhile."

The flashbulbs in my face go nuclear .

Somewhere behind us a girl shrieks, "HE CALLED HER LUCY LOU! HOW FREAKING CUTE!"

"Connor!" I hiss under my breath, trying to smile as Connor's arm tightens around me. "You did not just call me that in front of the entire fucking world!"

"What?"

He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps smiling for the cameras like he’s at his own wedding.

"You paid fifty grand for me, sunshine. I’m just making sure you get what you paid for."

Sophia chokes on a laugh. Natalie silently mouths oh my God and flaps a hand in front of her face like that will stop the flush washing over her cheeks.

I groan and smile through my teeth like a woman on the brink. “Swear to God, Walsh, I will murder you in your sleep.”

“Sure,” he says, still smiling for the cameras. “But only after you kiss me goodnight.”

I mean it.

I’m going to kill him. Slowly. With a souvenir foam finger that I'm about to snatch of that kid who won't stop shoving it in my face.

And then—because clearly I haven’t suffered enough—Coach Brody’s voice cuts through the madness and the crowd parts like he's fucking Moses in the Red Sea.

“Walsh. Lucy. Over here. Now.”

Connor winks at me. “Now look what you've done. You've pissed off Coach.”

I go to yell at him, but what's the point?

We follow our furious head coach through the terminal, past a row of vending machines and into a private hallway by the gates. He stops and turns to look at us, Connor first, before his expression lands on me.

And boy oh boy, it is thunderous.

"Let me make this real simple," he says, turning to face us with arms crossed like a bouncer at the gates of hell. "I said no bull shit. We had that last season, and I'm not allowing it again."

"Yes, Coach."

"So you either play the part—" He looks directly at me, making me feel like this is personal. "Or be done with it. Right fucking now."

I open my mouth but Connor beats me to it.

"It’s real, Coach. Isn’t it, babe?"

And then—he smacks my ass.

Smacks it.

Like this is a 1950s sitcom and I’m his doting housewife who just brought him a sandwich.

I jolt, eyes wide. “Did you just—”

Connor grins like the cocky bastard he is, eyes sparkling with pure mischief as he makes eyes at Coach Brody who's just standing there waiting for my response.

I smile. A full set of teeth, all bared in the most homicidal way possible.

"So real," I say sweetly. "It hurts."

Coach looks between us, sighs like we just gave him heartburn. "Fine. You’re officially traveling as his girlfriend. Try not to break up before we hit cruising altitude."

He turns and stalks off.

"Great," I mutter. "Now I’m team property."

"C’mon," Connor says, guiding me back toward the gate area. "It’ll be fun."

I whirl around as Connor's hand connects with my backside again, my jaw dropping as I jab a finger in his chest. "Would you stop that?"

"Just playing the part, sweetheart." His eyes dance with amusement as we walk back toward the team. "Gotta sell it, right?"

I yank my hand back, ignoring how my skin tingles where he touched me. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe." He leans in, his voice dropping low enough that only I can hear. "But you're cute when you're plotting my murder."

"I'm always plotting your murder."

"Exactly."

We rejoin the group where Blake and Sophia are cuddled on the airport seats, while Ryder sprawls across three chairs playing on his phone. The rest of the team mills around the gate area, some napping, others chatting.

Connor's hand finds the small of my back as we walk, and I hate how natural it feels. How easily we slip into these roles despite the bickering. His touch is warm through my sweater, possessive in a way that makes my stomach flip.

"You know," I say under my breath. "If you touch my ass one more time, I'm going to knee you somewhere that'll really hurt your goalie stance."

He chuckles. "With an ass like yours, totally worth it."

I elbow him in the ribs, but he just pulls me closer, dropping a kiss on my temple that feels far too real.

My heart stutters, and I remind myself this is all for show. Just another part of the game we're playing.

But when Connor's thumb starts tracing small circles on my back, I wonder if maybe I'm the only one still pretending.

I’m trying to focus on not combusting in public when a small blur in a sparkly pink dress barrels toward us from the side. A cute little girl stands in front of us, beaming a smile so bright I can't help but coo.

She’s maybe six. Tiny sneakers, glitter crown, and the biggest pair of bright blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Miss Lucy!” she chirps, clutching a puck in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. “Are you and Mr. Walsh getting married?”

Connor crouches like it’s second nature. He flashes her a grin that would melt chocolate. “You know, sweetie… she’s thinking about it.”

Um. Excuse me?

The little girl squeals and spins around, sprinting back to her parents at full speed, chanting, “They’re getting ma-a-arried! They’re getting ma-a-arried!”

I stare down at Connor, who’s still crouched there like this is all just so normal.

“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter, arms folded.

He stands, brushing off his jeans. “What? Kid wanted a moment. So I delivered.”

“You’re gonna give Coach a heart attack.”

He leans in, drops his voice low enough to shiver across my skin. “You might wanna play along, Lucy Lou. Especially since your brother already hates my guts. Might as well make it worth it.”

And there it is.

The name we’ve both been tiptoeing around like it won’t explode between us.

Ethan.

My smile falters as I swallow hard and straighten my shoulders.

This is the choice. My choice. And for now, it has to be enough.

Ethan has been out of line ever since he arrived back in Iron Ridge, and I won't just let another person in my family dictate my life to me.

The boarding call echoes through the terminal.

Connor looks at me and offers his hand. “Ready to fly, Mrs. Walsh?”

I roll my eyes.

But I take his hand anyway.

I slide into my window seat, still reeling from the terminal chaos.

The leather is butter-soft. A branded Icehawks blanket is draped over the seat, like this is a private jet for royalty instead of sweaty hockey players.

There’s a bottle of still water tucked into the armrest, and a tiny packet of chocolate-covered almonds—my favorite Summit Café snack.

My comfort snack. My secret comfort snack.

No way this was just part of the flight service.

I glance sideways. Connor’s already watching me from the aisle, that smug little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Of course he did this. He thought about me. Before we even got on the plane, he thought about me.

My fingers trace the smooth leather armrest, focusing on anything but the fact that I just boarded a private jet with the entire Icehawks team.

And Connor Walsh.

Who's now dropping into the seat right beside me. He buckles in, then casually drapes his arm across the back of my seat like this is our private jet and we’re en-route to our honeymoon in Bora Bora.

"Comfortable?" His shoulder brushes mine as he settles in, and I swear the temperature spikes ten degrees.

"I was." I dig my phone from my bag, pretending to be fascinated by my blank screen.

Connor shifts closer, his breath warming my ear. "You know, baby... you still haven't used that date you won."

My breath catches in my throat. The phone slips in my suddenly sweaty grip.

Shit.

Why does his voice sound like that? All low and rough and... dangerous when he says that.

I peek sideways to find him watching me with that infuriating smirk. The one that says he knows exactly what he's doing to my pulse right now.

He leans even closer, his lips nearly brushing my ear. "Or are you saving it for something special? Because the way you sounded last time… made it pretty damn hard to forget.”

Heat floods my face. The implications in those words make my stomach flip.

I don’t answer. I’m too busy doing math in my head, calculating how many hours I'm going to need to survive without giving into every dangerous temptation currently flooding through my body right down to my core.

My mind drifts back to that heated moment in my office.

The way Connor’s hands roamed over my body. His teeth sinking into my nipple, the sharp pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure. I would have done anything he wanted in that moment, anything to keep feeling his touch.

And now, here I am, on a trip with him for the next ten days. As his girlfriend. Fiancé. Wife.

Whatever the fuck this is.

I glance at him, his profile striking against the cabin's soft lighting. He’s talking to Ryder across the aisle, his laugh easy and carefree. I wonder if he thinks about that moment too. If he’s as affected by it as I am.

"Lucy?" Connor’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"Hmm?" I turn to find him watching me, those amber eyes catching everything.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I lie, forcing a smile. "Just... tired."

He nods, but there’s something in his gaze that tells me he doesn’t believe me. Of course he doesn’t. Connor Walsh sees through people like they’re made of glass.

I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable. It’s going to be a long flight. And an even longer ten days pretending to be Connor’s... whatever.

Connor’s hand lands on my thigh. His hand squeezes gently before he pulls away, leaving a cold void where his warmth was. I miss it immediately, which annoys me more than anything.

This trip is going to be torture.

I close my eyes and lean back in my seat, trying to will away the memories of Connor’s hands on me, his teeth biting down on my sensitive skin. But they’re relentless, playing over and over in my mind like a broken record.

Ten days of this? Pretending we’re something we’re not?

My heart pounds so hard I'm sure Connor can hear it.

"Good morning, passengers. Please fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for takeoff."

The pilots voice echoes through the cabin and I turn to stare out the window, pressing my burning cheek against the cool glass.

Because right here, thirty thousand feet about to happen, I realize something that terrifies me more than any turbulence could.

I'm not just fake dating Connor Walsh.

I might actually be falling for him.